Masaru and I were outside. The mid-morning sun still bedazzled the front lawn through the filter of dense tree branches. From the porch where he and I sat, I could see their entanglement yielding to every slight breeze, becoming grandiloquently animated like a shadow play of ballet dancers.

Masaru had organized his illustrations while we waited, setting a stone from the driveway on top of the pile to keep the wind from scattering them. He had settled them down midway between himself and me. To stave off his restlessness, he had brought one of his adventure novels out to read, and was presently engrossed in it. Neither one of us were bothered by the sodden, decomposing wood boards beneath where we sat, although we were both staining our clothes with its mulch-like dregs.

Masaru had long since decided to become a famous author and illustrator of children's fantasy books. Each of the characters from the copious pile next to me owned some bounteous life beyond his or her two-dimensional confines, which Masaru would verbally storyboard to me whenever I was able to listen.

The air around us was steeped with the scent of raw earth. The thaw had begun.

I lingered in the stillness for a full moment before I turned and thumbed through Masaru's work. Stuck in the middle of the etchings of warring knights and puckish halflings was a depiction of a young girl. Without the aid of an episodic backdrop, she appeared stark. Although not as precise in rendering as the others, there was a particular emphasis placed on the rippling effects of her hair, and the curvature of her eyelashes. Her left hand grasped some sort of wand.

"This one isn't yours."

Masaru's head surfaced from his novel. "Oh. No, Yoko gave me that one."

"Who is Yoko?"

"A girl from my class." I expected that to be the extent of his confidence, but he shoved his hand into his jacket, rummaged, and pulled out a wallet-size photograph. "This is her," he explained, and passed me the photo.

The gloss of the photo's veneer had dulled from residing in Masaru's cluttered jacket pocket for an indeterminate period of time. She had dark, chin length hair, and wore a sly, Cheshire Cat smile. Her eyes were crowned with thick lashes.

I returned the photograph. "She's very pretty, Masaru."

He shrugged, "I dunno. I guess." The corners of his lips upturned slightly before he hid them once more behind his book.

Pleased, but not wishing him to become self-conscious, I murmured, "Good."

It's about time...

The wind stirred the trees once more, shaking a small flock of blackbirds off the comfort of the boughs. Wings flapping furiously, the birds departed, seeking a better perch somewhere else. Then as the cawing faded, I detected the distress of tires against a stone-paved driveway. The engine of a car droned in the distance; it hummed like a beehive.

I rose, and scanned the obscured horizon. Once the passengers made their way past the clearing of the trees, I would be able to see them. But I already knew who it was.

I hurried down the steps and through the front yard, greeting Mr. Hattori's weathered car. I spotted Mr. Hattori's jovial face. From the passenger's side lounged Etsuko, still asleep from the journey. Mr. Hattori gently nudged Etsuko with a free palm. Coming to, she made a furtive swipe at her eyes with the heel of her hand. I planted myself approximately six feet away from the parked car and waited while Masaru rushed to flank me.

Mr. Hattori eased out of the car first. He looked more weathered than I had ever recalled seeing him, his smile mapped a few more lines in his face. Yet there was nothing clouded or troubled in his expression. "Hey. How ya doin', honey?"

I suddenly felt very young. "Good," I blushed, momentarily forgetting that it was incorrect grammar.

Masaru didn't correct me. Instead, he literally jumped in front of Mr. Hattori and thrust out his hand. Mr. Hattori's smile broadened as he grasped Masaru's slender hand with his own rough one. I watched as Masaru began to prattle happily about the time he spent overseas. He was more exuberant than I had seen him in months.

A car door slammed, and the drowsy Etsuko was standing in front of me. As always, she was wearing a striped shirt, and hid her incisive eyes behind a thick pair of librarian glasses. She stared at me for a long moment, uncharacteristically silent.

She was the one who broke her composure first. Abruptly, she grabbed me in tight embrace. "I've missed you!" she exclaimed. This was downright gushing for a young woman who was so stingy in expressing her more tender emotions.

"I've missed you," I returned, and meant it. It's odd; it didn't occur just how much I had missed them until they were both standing in front me.

"It's been too long."

"It has." Inadequately, I could only mirror back her sentiments.

She took me at arm's length, studying my face. Suddenly, she rolled her eyes. "You haven't aged. You still look like you're about fifteen." She sighed, and dropped her hands to her side. "In the meantime, I must look like the Crypt Keeper."

"You look lovely."

She bust into laughter. "Mitsuko, I've spent the past five nights in one of the government-sanctioned, makeshift shelters. And some people in the city weren't so lucky. They've been sleeping outside. Don't tell me; it must have been the spa they had that's given me this youthful glow." She called over to Mr. Hattori, who was pulling luggage out of the trunk, "What do you think? Was it the sauna, or the facials?"

Mr. Hattori shrugged, "Well, maybe that's what you preferred, but I liked the acupuncture sessions."

I shook my head. "I still say you look great."

"You haven't changed." As she tucked a strand of her acorn brown hair behind her ear, a jewel on her hand caught a sunbeam, dispersing prismatic splendor. Masaru hugged her before he tended to the suitcases in front of him.

I smiled at her, "Etsuko,...are you engaged to someone?"

She realized what I was gazing at, and let her hand drop. "Yeah,..." She nodded towards Mr. Hattori, "The dope finally got smart and quit beating around the bush."

I gawked at her, "The two of you...? This whole time?! I honestly had no idea!"

She seemed bemused by my stunned reaction. "You don't have to feel left out. The only other people who know about it are my parents."

My eyes widened, "Etsuko, your parents-were they ...there?" I faltered in my speech, unable to contrive a way to proceed in a painful inquiry.

She tried to take her luggage away from me. My grasp on the handle was too firm for her. "My parents live two hours away from the city. South of where you live. They're fine. They don't travel much," she smiled wryly. I glanced behind me. Masaru was already dragging Mr. Hattori's two suitcases across the lawn like a slipshod bellboy. Mr. Hattori trailed behind him, surprised by my brother's rapid gait.

"I am happy for you, it's just...I never saw any romance forming between you two. I'm completely amazed."

She considered this as the wind picked up and disheveled our hair, "Well, not everyone falls in love as dramatically as you do, Mitsuko."

"It wasn't dramatic; it was surreal." I hefted the first of her bags towards the house. "Don't even think about getting your own luggage," I called over my shoulder. "You're the guest, and you've had a long journey."

"And you," Etsuko shouted back, "you still act like you're forty!"

*** *** *** *** **** *** **** **** *** *** *** ***

Inside the house after I had hung their jackets and set the stove for tea, Mr. Hattori and Etsuko settled on the chocolate brown sofa, while Masaru found his place in the book he had been reading. They raised their eyes towards the ceiling, and the entrance chandelier trembled as vociferous thumps reverberated through the hallway. I laughed, "Listen, do you hear that? That's my father; he's using his walker upstairs. He's really supposed to be using his cane more often now, I ought to be firmer with him about it."

Mr. Hattori chuckled. "It's really something that you were able to get moved in so fast by yourself, Mitsuko. Was the house in bad shape when you got here?"

"There was some termite damage. A couple of floorboards needed to be replaced. It wasn't too expensive, though. Thankfully."

"We're not really that moved in," Masaru interjected.

"I don't see any boxes around," observed Etsuko.

Masaru grinned, "That's 'cause we put them all in the basement."

"Don't worry about them, then." Etsuko had adopted an insistent, formal tone. "We'll help wherever we're needed." She nudged Mr. Hattori, "Won't we?"

Mr. Hattori sheepishly nodded, "Sure."

I sighed, exasperated, "You've not been here for five minutes! Don't talk about that now."

Etsuko's eyes narrowed. She stared at Masaru while she adjusted the crooked frame of her glasses. "Masaru."

"Yup?"

"Go stand next to your sister." He willingly rolled off his stomach, and scrambled to my side. Etsuko's mouth was agape. "Do you see this, Hanpei? He's so tall!"

Etsuko was right. Masaru now came up to my shoulder in height.

"Of course I noticed," Mr. Hattori retorted. "No one can stay a shrimp for that long." He smirked at Masaru, who grinned back in reply.

I let my hand rest on the crown of his head, "Yes. Masaru's going to get so big. Just like our brother, Ichiro." My commentary was met with puzzled expressions from the two. I clarified, "When I found the picture of him in Father's diary last fall, I didn't want his memory to stay buried. I went through some of Father's old files to uncover more about him. I guess you could say I exhumed him." I mussed Masaru's hair before he sat back down again. "He had a towering frame."

The two betrothed didn't comment. I looked up at the ceiling. The vibrations had ebbed. "I'll tell Father you're here."

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

Father had just commenced a round of his physical therapy exercises, which neither one of us wanted to disrupt. By the time we entered the living room, Mr. Hattori and Etsuko were halfway through their tea. "We helped ourselves. We hope you don't mind," Etsuko told me.

"No, of course not."

Etsuko rose, sloshing a remaining quarter of the tea into its saucer, as she pulled Mr. Hattori up with her. "Doctor Komyouji, sir. We just wanted to say how appreciative we are that you've opened your home to us like this. Sir."

Mr. Hattori nodded, "We're much obliged. It's a very generous offer for you to extend to us."

Father dismissed them both with a wave of his hand before gripping the arms of his chair to sit. "You can consider this as your home for as long as you like. You're welcome here." He eased into the chair. "So we can skip the formalities. Sit back down." I beamed at both of them.

Mr. Hattori, seated, stared into his cup. "Mitsuko. I'm sure you're anxious to hear about Jiro."

"I'm relieved." He raised his head.

"I'm glad that nothing-nothing has harmed him. I've been living off my hope of it. Now, I finally have some true evidence."

"But Mitsuko, doesn't it bother you that he hasn't returned to you after such an ordeal?" Mr. Hattori set the cup and saucer down on the coffee table. Etsuko pursed her lips and held a sidelong glance at her former employer, as arguments forming behind her coke-bottle glasses she allowed to dissipate.

"He doesn't know that I've returned yet. I'm certain he's been back to this house, though." I took a breath. "This was meant to be private, but I suppose you might as well know now. Before we moved away, we had this entire house vacated of personal items. There was nothing left. We didn't want any evidence that could the police could link to Jiro. They would have used it to try and apprehend him. But I couldn't stand the thought of him riding up the hill to an empty house, and having him think we had abandoned him. So before everything was either burned or packed away, I left our book of Pinocchio." I watched as Etsuko latched hands with Mr. Hattori. It was the first sign of affection I had seen between them. "It has a special significance between us," I continued. "I left an message for him on the first page before the story began, but I didn't address it to him by name."

"What did it say?" marveled Etsuko.

"Jesus, Etsuko! Didn't she just say it was private?" gasped Mr. Hattori.

Etsuko removed her hand from Mr. Hattori's. She narrowed her eyes at him. "Since when do you back off before you know everything that's going on?"

"I'm not working a case, Etsuko!"

"I ought to let both of you know before this goes any further," I interrupted, "we've established a new house rule here. It was for my own benefit, no one else's. I had fallen into a rather uncongenial habit." My father was nodding from his chair. "I believe in conveying myself as accurately as possible, that words have meaning behind them. And every time I used profane language, I was disrespecting someone else, and disrespecting myself in the process. So I decided not to use language like that anymore. Now, to keep me from reverting back, I have a curse jar. Everyone in the house who says something inappropriate has to contribute to it, as well. Do you know what a curse jar is?"

Mr. Hattori nodded, "Yeah. And how much does 'Jesus' cost?"

"A deity from any religion is one single bill." Mr. Hattori dug into the pocket of his khakis, and produced the desired money. I let it drop onto the coffee table.

"It's a real pain," muttered Masaru. "But I guess we need it."

"You'll have to forgive my daughter," Father smiled playfully. "I believe she must have been shanghaied as a child, because she uses the vocabulary of the sailors."

"For Heaven's sake," pursued Etsuko, "How many times have I heard Mitsuko curse? Maybe three, at the most."

"He's only teasing me," I reassured her, "this is how he jokes with me. Anyway, to answer your question; I wrote something to the effect that I would return for him, and that he should wait for me. And if he was fighting something-an associate of Dark or not-he would have good cause not to be physically here when I came back. I think he'd want me to find him." The room was so still, the clicking gears of the clocks on the mantelpiece seemed to boom. "Tell me," I continued softly, "how did he look to you? What was he doing? Did you see him for very long?"

Mr. Hattori shifted his weight. "He was crying, Mitsuko."

"If I had witnessed all of that destruction, I would have been crying, too." Mr. Hattori shook his head.

"That's not it, Mitsuko. He turned around once, and he looked as though he had been crying long before he saw what that machine had done. Whatever he was upset about, I think it happened inside of that thing."

"I saw it, too," concurred Etsuko. "It was definitely Jiro. He was far off, and even when we called to him, he kept walking. He may have been too far away to hear us. I didn't like the way he was walking."

"What do you mean?"

"He was stiff," diagnosed Mr. Hattori. "He had his shoulders hunched like he was carrying something heavy. But he wasn't. I wanted to run over to him, but there was so much smoke. It closed over him, and I couldn't see what direction he had gone into. For a minute, I thought I'd lost all trace of him for good.

"But then, as I was walking in the direction I last saw Jiro, I noticed someone. An old man. He was staring towards the same spot Jiro had been, with this look of concern on his face. I probed him a little about it, and he admitted that he knew 'the boy'. That's what he called him.

"So I became selective in what I disclosed to him. I mentioned the name 'Komyouji' to the man, and that the family was a former employer of mine, and he suddenly became very interested. He was trying to press me to tell him more, without revealing too much about himself. I know this game. I've dealt with it a lot in my business.

"I continued with vague responses until he finally admitted to me that he was Doctor Komyouji's former mentor. He claimed he taught you when you first began your research in robotics, Doctor. Said his name was Fuuten."

"My Lo-my word," stammered Father. "The old bat. I had no idea he was still alive."

I frowned. "You never told me about him, Father."

"I had assumed that he was another victim of Dark's. I lost contact with him quite some years ago. He must have been in hiding all this time." He rubbed his broad forehead with his hand, obscuring his largest age spot. "I had entrusted him with two Kikaider prototypes; similar in design to Jiro, but predisposed to have vastly different personality traits than he did. This was before I was confident enough to install my revised Gemini into an android. I left them without one."

"And I?" I challenged, "I couldn't be entrusted with them?"

"You were too young at the time." His voice was conciliatory, as he sensed the edge of my wounded pride. "It had nothing to do with my not trusting you."

"Is there anything else I should know about?" I pursued. Father sighed.

"In the process of creating Jiro, there were dozens of half-finished models. Arms, heads. All constructed to test their efficiency before they were used for Jiro. Then came the prototypes. I had my doubts that they would ever become activated. I never told you about them because I'm not sure they are functioning-or have the capability to function." I wondered how forthright Father was being in disclosing this to us, but I nodded, willing to drop my inquiries.

"I didn't see any androids with him," mused Mr. Hattori, "There were two kids there, though. You didn't design them to look like children, did you?"

"No...I have no idea whose children they could be. Fuuten is a monk; he's taken a vow of celibacy. He kept to himself, and I don't recall him having any blood relatives alive."

"Well." Mr. Hattori took a final gulp of his tea. "I would have gotten further into a real conversation with him, but everything around us was so chaotic. It was the wrong time for it. We needed to find shelter, and search for survivors. So I took his information, and we promised to get in touch with one another once we had reached safety and were settled there."

"Do you think he'll keep his word?" I queried.

"I do. He's as curious as I am, and I get the impression that the man keeps his promises."

"He certainly does," My father added. "That much can be said for him."

I looked across the room at him, trying to measure whether or not he'd be receptive to the idea that was plaguing me. Masaru, having remained silent this whole time, exchanged a glance with me. I knew he was thinking exactly what I was. "Father," I began, having summoned the courage to speak, "with your permission, I'd like to ask Mr. Hattori to continue his employment with us. I'd want him to investigate this fully, in a professional capacity."

Mr. Hattori and Father swapped startled looks. Finally, Father leaned in from his chair to ratify, "I'm not the one to ask. I want what you want. I want your happiness." I softened, craving his tenderness.

"Keep in mind, Mitsuko, this isn't just about you anymore," Father continued firmly, "there are hundreds of thousands of people who have been affected by last week. They're searching for loved ones, as well. Either for proof that they have survived and are camping in the shelters, or fragments of remains to have a proper funeral. You're fortunate. You know the person you're looking for is alive. Think for a moment: who will they turn to?" He upturned his empty palms, half shrugging.

I nearly opened my mouth to say, "the police," when I realized Father's point.

He expounded, "The police who haven't perished are strained, overburdened. They've called for relief from towns all over the country. Officers from foreign nations are flying in every day. All this just to keep the peace and establish structure. They simply can't address every missing person case as well as they ought to. Now, who do you think the bereaved will turn to expedite their search? Consider this carefully before you say anything."

"I know." I pulled my knees in towards my chin. "Everything you've said is true. That's why I feel selfish in asking. I just...can't let it go. Am I wrong?"

"Jiro is the reason we're here." Mr. Hattori's voice was sonorous with conviction. "At the heart of everything that's occurred, lies Jiro. I know it. Now, I need to figure out what happened in that big machine last week. If I know that much, it will inform me of any other case that's related to it. And I need to know, for me. It was my city."

Masaru, his excitement spilling over, could no longer withstand carrying a quiet demeanor. "You'll help us?!" He exclaimed, tripping as he sprung to his feet.

Etsuko looked to my father, "We'll do whatever it takes, Doctor Komyouji. Sir." I tried to suppress my smile. I wondered how long she was going to tack on "Sir" when addressing my father, as though it where a part of his assumed name.

Mr. Hattori leaned back, a cocky grin on his face. "It's going to be Hell of a task. But I think I'll be up to it." He broke from his self-lauding reverie as he heard Masaru's jibing laughter.

"Ooh, he said 'Hell,' Mitsuko!" To Mr. Hattori, pointing an accusatory finger: "You shouldn't have said that!" Then, back to me: "How much does that cost? How much does that cost?"

"A single bill." Mr. Hattori audibly groaned as he dredged through his wallet and produced the desired currency. Little did he know he was funding the sale of my brother's new bike.

"I wonder who will wind up paying who more in the end," Mr. Hattori muttered.

**** **** **** **** **** **** **** **** **** **** **** ****

There was a lot to be done to the house. All of our bibelots were still stored away, and our home lacked its former flavor. Without being asked, Etsuko and Mr. Hattori descended the steps to the basement and located the boxes. We spent the day unpacking our dubious treasures.

Mr. Hattori and Etsuko both applied themselves to the task at hand with a terrible fervor. They were exhausted by evening. I found them sitting on the loveseat in the livingroom just before supper. Masaru and I decided to join them by lounging on the opposing couch.

"That's not how you sit on a sofa," Masaru instructed them. "You should sit like this." He reclined at one end. At the other end, he propped his feet up in my lap.

I laughed, "You need to change your socks, Masaru." He stuck his tongue out at me, teasingly. "That's charming, dear," I grimaced. I lifted a throw pillow wedged behind me and brought it down, crashing softly into his head. His shrieks of protests were muffled by the burgundy cushion.

I caught Etsuko gazing at me. "I wish you wouldn't keep throwing me these looks," she finally admitted.

"What looks?"

"Like you feel sorry for me."

"I'm sorry. I wasn't aware I was doing that."

"Don't worry," she reassured me, "if it was Gill-or some flunkee of his who did this- he's done Hanpei and me a favor." I raised my eyebrows.

"Both places where we lived were dumps," she declared. "They needed to be demolished. If it weren't for the big machine, they'd both be condemned, anyway."

I clapped my hand over my mouth to stifle my startled laughter. "Oh, my gosh!" I gasped. "I'm sorry, that isn't funny. I don't know what's wrong with me."

Etsuko smiled. "It is funny, Mitsuko. It is because it has to be." She squeezed Mr. Hattori's hand.

Mr. Hattori appeared wounded. "For the last time," he grumbled, "my pad was not a dump!"

Etsuko lowered her eyes, as though chastened. But while Mr. Hattori was looking the other way, she leaned in and mouthed the words: a dump. Masaru and I burst into giggles. Mr. Hattori snapped his head back, then relaxed as if he were pleased to hear us laugh.

I nudged Masaru. "Why don't you go set the table for us?" He willingly rolled off the sofa and trotted to the kitchen.

Mr. Hattori broke away from Etsuko, standing up. "I should go talk to your father. Where is he?"

"In the kitchen." He stretched his joints before following Masaru.

The room still again, I could hear the reverberations of the clocks. After a moment, I stood up as well. "I can get you something," I told Etsuko, "do you need anything?" She shook her head.

"How much does Masaru know about all of this? I mean, what happened last week."

"He knows everything." Etsuko's eyes widened.

"The networks have been running marathons of the footage. You know how sensational they can become." I smoothed out my skirt. "I didn't let him stay in front of the TV for more than a few minutes each day. But I can't keep this from him. He figures everything out on his own, anyway."

I half turned to go, then paused before I finally confessed, "I just don't understand. How can you be so calm-after going through such an ordeal?"

"Have a seat."

**** **** **** **** **** **** **** **** **** **** **** ****

"I wasn't calm...not when it was first happening." Etsuko was staring off, her eyes locked in a trance. "It's funny; Hanpei always acts like the worrywart. A frantic mother hen when he thinks something bad is going to happen. But then we're really there, in the middle of some catastrophe we didn't see coming, and I'm the one who's falling to pieces. Him...he knows exactly what to do.

"I remember how much I wanted coffee that day. We'd carefully rationed your generosity, Mitsuko, so we weren't so broke that we couldn't afford coffee. But I hated the brand he had bought.

"I was being petty, picking fights with him all day. I was in the throws of caffeine withdrawal, and after sampling the pot I had brewed, I started nagging him that I wanted to stop by a cafe and pick up a decent cup.

"He didn't want to be bothered. He was beginning a new case, and there were some leads he wanted to contact before the end of the day. For once, he was turning down our drug of choice."

Her narration was obsessed with the mundane. Perhaps the smaller details comforted her. I waited patiently for her to progress.

"I told him what a beautiful afternoon it was turning out to be," she resumed. "Was. I whined that I didn't want to go by myself, that he should get out of the office and join me. And he-he's so good. He's peaceable, you know? He left just to make me happy.

"So we were there, and the place was bustling with activity. Same as it always was. Everybody seemed so absorbed in their own routine, no one acknowledged anyone else. They were pausing to feed their addiction before getting back to their lives. And I...I don't really remember what I was thinking about... Probably the paperwork we were going to have to fill out when we got back. Or the bills I hadn't paid yet.

"We were standing outside, by some tables, and I was telling Hanpei about what I wanted to do over the weekend,...and I heard this awful sound." She shook her head. "It's kind of hard to describe. It was like a thousand panes of glass shattering at once. It startled the heck out of me. I yelped at it. I spun around, and I do remember saying, 'What was that.' I was looking pretty hard, and at I couldn't see anything wrong. Then I noticed this steel tower. It was blocks away from me, and it was huge. This looming structure had just parked itself in the middle of the street.

"I was really stupid, Mitsuko. I took a few steps into the street to get a better view. Everyone in the street had stopped to stare, too. I was too curious trying to figure out what it was to listen to their comments. I had to crane my neck all the way up to see, but I saw it was connected to something. The steel form was an appendage. It had a body and a head.

"I would have just stood there, gawking at the thing in disbelief, but I felt someone grab my hand. It was Hanpei. He broke into a run, and started dragging me along with him. We ran smack into a group of onlookers, and I almost broke my hold on him. He paced himself, so our hands wouldn't come unlocked, though.

"I could hear more crashing glass. Then these thunderous booms, surrounding me on every side. Over the din, I heard Hanpei roaring, 'Don't look back!'

"Every time my feet touched the ground, I could feel the earth shaking. It threw me off balance, a little. Now I could hear people screaming, too." She blinked, her eyes glossing over with tears. "And I thought, whatever's behind us, it's going to catch up with us soon. I was convinced I was going to die right there, in the middle of the street.

"I found out what everyone was screaming about." Her voice was nearly matter-of-fact at the recounting of her discovery. "This hot gust of wind grazed my face from behind. The smell...it was like burning tar. It broke over me, just like a tsunami: black air.

"It wasn't just the smoke, Mitsuko. I could feel sediments settling onto my skin, like condensation. Fine particles of the buildings were in the air. Glass fragments, too."

I gasped, "Etsuko, that could have gotten into your lungs! That's the same as exposure to asbestos." I belatedly realized that I could be making her feel worse.

"I intend on going to a physician around here this week, getting myself checked out." She laughed nervously. She'd started to fidget with her hair, curling the ends around her pointer finger. "It was night," she murmured abruptly. "The air was so thick, it had blackened out everything. There was no moon, no stars. It was over my glasses; my bifocals were shielding my eyes. We couldn't run anymore, we couldn't see what we would run into, or away from, or towards. I had pulled a handkerchief over my mouth and nose, but it didn't help. My throat was raw. I just wanted to breathe.

"Had we survived the demolished buildings only to slowly suffocate to death? I was probably a long way away from having that happen, but that's what I was thinking at the time. I was shaking uncontrollably. I called out to Hanpei, who was this opaque grey form in front of me. I slipped up, and actually started calling him 'Boss' again. Which I hope he wasn't paying attention to," she laughed bitterly. "I'll never be able to live it down.

"The explosions had stopped, but now I heard thuds. The sky was falling. It was raining large pieces of building, and the people who were in them. Or parts of them." She wrung her hands. "As we slowly felt our way through, I know my foot sank into something soft a couple of times. It was probably a corpse. And I know I should have stopped right then, or turned around to find out if they were alive!" Tears had begun to flow out of her unblinking eyes. Mucus was running out of her nose. "I should have made Hanpei stop, but I didn't. We left them behind."

"Etsuko..." She held up a hand, cutting me off.

"Just let me finish, okay?" She heaved a shuddering sigh, and then went on, "I'm not really sure how long we were walking through that for. It was hard to get a sense of time without the sun. But then I felt something warm, like summer's humid cling on my back, and a force physically knocked me over.

"It was a bright, white light. I could see all of the debris settling through it, like motes. Imagine what it must feel like; to be in the afternoon sun, then be cast pitch black night, and then have stadium lights shining right in your eyes.

"It lasted maybe three seconds. Then it was over. The smoke cloud was clearing. I was so grateful, I was taking in huge gulps of air, although I had limited success with it. If I breathed too deeply, I'd start to have a coughing fit. I was nauseous. My head ached dully, and my ears were ringing.

"We made it. That's what I kept thinking: we both made it."

"You made it through together..."

"Yeah, we did." She paused. Her hands had gone lax on her lap. "These past few days, I've been thinking about that a lot: why we lived when so many other people didn't. Our office building was a direct hit. Our apartments had severe structural damage, from the impact of all the explosion around it. If I hadn't insisted we go out, we wouldn't be here....I think there must be a reason for it...But I guess a lot of people say that after they've lived through a disaster." She confessed this almost sheepishly.

But I didn't want an apology from her about interpreting what was lost. So I began my own admission; "The scientists who teach me now are so cynical. They say that the mind's need to search for order or meaning in chaos is a just neurological precept. A conceit of the brain. We're programmed to search for it, its a survival mechanism. Does that remind you of anyone?"

She began uncertainly, "Didn't you tell me once that The Bat-Machine had said something like that to you once?"

"Golden Bat," I murmured, "And that was what he said to me almost verbatim...He was more human than he realized.

"Even if it is true that the mind is designed to assign meaning during harrowing moments, couldn't there also be a reason we were meant to look for something more? Maybe we're meant to seek out Providence, whatever it really is, because it exists."

Etsuko wiped away the remaining traces of her liquid remorse. "I'm a dope, Mitsuko, but I want to believe in that much."

"I've been through a lot of near-death experiences, myself-" Etsuko nodded emphatically.

"You have," she interrupted.

"-I've never met anyone my age who's lived through what I have. And I'm a scientist at heart; I base my opinions on the empirical. So...in a way, it's better that I lived more in those nine months with Jiro than any of my peers seem to have in their whole lives. I can start figuring out for myself why I was spared from death so many times.

"Even when I should have been killed, something in the circumstances would shift just enough for me to live. It wasn't a fluke, or a coincidence, I know it. If I live out of someone else's design for me, I need to know why, and what I'm supposed to be doing. That's why I've been searching-for something to believe in."

"You probably have a lot on your mind, too, with all the changes going on in your life in the last couple of month," Etsuko reasoned. "And now," she threw her hands up in the air, "we're left with all these questions..." Her voice trailed off. "So, what have you been thinking about, Mitsuko?"

I sighed, "It's trivial, illogical. You wouldn't want to hear it."

"That's okay," she gently pushed. "I don't care what it sounds like. You can tell me if you want to."

"It's just that this house...So much has happened here...You know, some religions connect evil with location. If a vile act has been perpetrated for a long time in the same place, they say it leaves an impression, a mark upon the place. I wonder if it was the best idea to come back to it...But then, I had to."

"For Jiro."

"Yes."

"What are you going to do?" I stood.

"I'm withdrawing from my classes tomorrow. I'm too involved in all of this to let you and Mr. Hattori do all of the work."

"That's an awfully big decision-Hanpei and I can work without your help if you're not comfortable-"

"I want to do it," I overlapped.

**** **** **** **** **** **** **** **** **** **** **** ****

I was cold.

A glacial wind cut me from behind, sending my hair flying around my face. I pulled my jacket tighter around me, and quickened my pace. The weather was vehement, but I had to follow her. She had to be made to take responsibility for all of her transgressions. I'd make her turn around to face me, see me for who I'd become without her.

The clacking footfalls of high heels echoed through the vacant streets. Somewhere unseen, gulls were crying to one another. I absently touched my cheek. The spray of the sea had begun to settle on my face. I would soon reach the docks.

I knew everything that would happen. The figure before me slowed, then ceased its evasions. It stood stolid by the fence of the dock, neither fleeing nor acknowledging me.

I opened my mouth. I would conclude my caustic interrogation in the same way I always had. The streetlights flashed on. Detachedly, I realized it had grown dark. I had been following her for some time. The figure's being tensed, and it turned itself around.

Mother...

Her hair undulated in the inconstant gusts of wind. I looked to her face, which had held an ardor for me long ago. It had now configured itself into a mold of taunting dispassion. She squinted her eyes, to hide their telltale disquietude.

She opened her mouth. Soon she would list for me her justifications of abandonment and neglect.

But something felt off, altered. I was aware of someone peering at me. I turned my head. A small boy was approaching me. As the streetlight fell upon him, his features became more sharply defined.

Masaru?

No... it wasn't him, but he was like him. This boy was gaunt; he lacked the cherubic fullness one would expect from a child of three or four. His skin tone was too sallow to be mistaken for my brother's.

And yet the eyes, the lips, the ears, were exactly as Masaru's were.

He had paused to observe me, as well. After a full moment of delicate regard, he began to meekly come up to me. I watched him in shock.

He wants to take me away from this...

-To protect me-why?

I opened my arms to this winsome, frail boy. But even as I began to welcome him, I instinctively turned back to see if the woman who disavowed ties with me had observed him as well.

Her mien had changed markedly. She didn't want to notice me, but through her cool facade was a certain recognition of this infantile boy. As the he kept drawing closer to me and not her, the lines in her face set stiffly into a pose of fury. She shot her livid stare right to me. Instinctively, I felt I had done something wrong, like a child who has accidentally walked into a room where grown-ups are having a dirty conversation.

The free hand that was not clutching the department store bag disappeared into the folds of her flowing trench coat. Her face radiated malice towards me as she pulled out a small, dark object and aimed at my heart. The lamps above proffered no indication of her purpose, and it took a moment for me to cognize.

A gun...

I wanted to plead with her; to beg her to spare me, to want me again, but my words dissolved under her commanding glower.

This time was different. There was no trace of hesitation as she began to pull the trigger back.

Oh, God.

I heard the explosion of the firing weapon, and then...

White.

White?

Faintly, I could detect the sound of a flock of birds busily twittering somewhere far away. A ray of sunlight had struck the patch of white I was staring at. I felt the weight of several layers of blankets on top of me.

The ceiling-I'm looking at the ceiling...When did I awaken?

I sat up in my bed and searched my surroundings. The covers had shifted in my sleep. I felt the blankets against my legs; my white cotton gown had become wedged high above my thighs. My heart rate settled as I took in the comfort of my simple, austere room.

I took deep breaths. These nightmares were the last thing that I needed. In tracking Jiro, I reasoned that I was going to encroach something jumbled-but certainly painful. I wondered how long I would keep chasing my mother down that frigid night. Forever? I pondered silently to myself. God forgive me, but I still wanted to see her after I die.

I threw my covers back and stumbled to the door, not bothering to check in the dresser mirror for the night's havoc on my body. I trudged to the kitchen and found Etsuko, already dressed, feasting on waffles.

"You look lousy." She took an enormous bite of the toaster-prepared delicacy.

"Where is Mr. Hattori?"

"He went to the store," she muffled. "You were almost out of milk." She swallowed and smiled, suddenly self-conscious. "I hope you don't mind us helping ourselves here."

I didn't reply. Instead, I pulled out a chair across from her and sank into it.

Etsuko put her fork down. "What's wrong?" she demanded.

"I've remembered something my mother said-just before she died."

**** **** **** **** **** **** **** **** **** **** **** ****

Mr. Hattori arrived back after I had dressed. While in the parlor, I could hear the ruckus of the kitchen door slamming and a chorus of intersecting voices: my father's, Etsuko's, and Mr. Hattori's. Masaru had left for school five minutes ago. I was filing a pile of discarded bills that had been carelessly tossed on a table when the door swung open.

"Hey, Mitsuko."

"Good morning." While my mind was still reeling from last night's vivid imagery, I saw Mr. Hattori's crestfallen gait coupled with a resignment in his face.

My look to him was full of unuttered inquiries. He shrugged his shoulders. "This Reverend Fuuten guy I said I was going to contact...I called him before anyone else here was awake. Apparently he's an early riser." I consciously chose not to count the raccoon-like circles under his eyes while he locked his gaze with me. "He's refused to talk to me."

My fists involuntarily clenched. "What?" I gasped.

"He said you were the only one he would meet with. He asked for you by name." He paused, allowing his words to penetrate. I shook my head, dumbstruck.

"With me?" I finally echoed densely. "That doesn't make sense. Why wouldn't he rather meet with my father?"

"He said what he has to say concerns you most of all." His brow arched as he continued, "You know, I was talking to your father about it, and he didn't seem very insulted by the slight."

"I think he's lost the desire to study humanoid robots. He's probably relieved that he doesn't have to be involved anymore...That's my only guess."

He folded his arms. "Etsuko said you had wanted to ask me something."

"There's another capacity I'd like you to assist me in. I want you to look at birth records from my mother's hometown over the past six years. I doubt they'd be difficult to obtain," I reassured him. "Look for a male with the last name of Sagamoto, or Helbert. If he does exist, I guess he'd be a change-of-life baby. It's not that unusual."

He cleared his throat and shifted his weight, seemingly caught off guard. "That wouldn't be difficult at all...But why ask me this now? You've never said you might have another brother before."

"I'm not sure he's real, it's just...a hunch."

"Now, wait a minute, Mitsuko." He had regained his bearings and began addressing me with his usual straightforward edge. "You want me to help you; I'm fine with that. But that means I'm going to ask you some questions you might not feel comfortable answering. When I'm acting as just your friend, it's off limits to me. But when you ask me to investigate for you, you can't answer me with anything less than total honesty." He waited expectantly. "So, what aren't you telling me?"

"I had a dream about him, all right?" I sighed, flustered, "last night, I dreamed about a little boy, and I'm not sure why." I walked away from him, feeling heat rushing to my face, and stopped at the window to stare. There were a pair of morning doves outside, feathers puffed, contentedly dozing. "Do you think I've gone mad?" I whispered, more to the doves than to Mr. Hattori.

I heard his footsteps from behind. I felt him hovering near me, and I heard the words, "I'll get started right away."

"Thank you."

His footsteps retreated, and I heard the door shut behind him.

My thoughts I kept as my companions. I wondered if Mr. Hattori or I were to ever meet him in the street through chance, would we be able to recognize him as my kin?

**** **** **** **** **** **** **** **** **** **** **** ****

I didn't recognize the block where so many of my classes were held. I didn't hear the animated chatter of my peers or the blaring car horns and boom boxes. An eerie stillness had suffused the landscape in the absence of its daily action. There were a few students I passed on the way to Jonathan's office, talking on cell phones in somber tones to family members. The thaw had facilitated sinkholes of mud all around the campus. As I strode through The Quad, I found I had to move quickly, or the thick puddles would try to claim my ballet flats. In broad circles on the lawns, worms and maggots had tunneled out to seek oxygen.

They'll take the bodies the crews haven't found yet, I thought grimly.

The dormitory buildings behind me, I could hear no less than five separate broadcasts detailing the ravaged west end of the city. The well-composed voices of the journalists resounded from the students' windows.

"...So far believe this to be an isolated act..."

"...The motives of which are still under investigation.."

"...Has reassured the public that every effort..."

"...New bodies are still being uncovered upon the hour, yet officials of the city insist there may still be survivors trapped..."

Along the walkway on a bench, I spotted a girl with streaks of electric yellow dyed into her hair. Her eyelids were puffy, and her breaths were deep sighs, as though she had just concluded a fit of weeping. I stopped and observed her from several feet away, immobile by my intrusion. It would be callous of me to pass her by without proffering help, but rude for me to get involved in her personal grief. A minute passed. From the way her face was wrought, it seemed she had found no release in her previous activity. Her sorrow was unbearable. Finally, I willed myself to sit down next to her on the bench. Without speaking, I slowly draped my arm along the edge of the bench. Not making eye contact, she abruptly crumpled into me. I let my arms encircle her broad frame, and we stayed like that for a few minutes.

Eventually, she pulled away and stood up. "Thanks," she muttered to her shoes. She made a fleeting swipe at her nose with the back of her hand, and shoved it into her pocket. "It wasn't supposed to happen like this." She shook her head. "I was the reckless one, I was supposed to die before she did."

Who is "she?" I pondered silently. A younger sibling?

"Maybe there's been a mistake," Electric Yellow mumbled. "I think I'm going to go pray about it somewhere, ask why."

"Do you want me to come with you?"

She shook her head more fiercely than before. "But thanks."

I watched her walk away and disappear past the descent of the hill. I was suddenly steeped in fury at the powerlessness I felt. I couldn't change anything.

Whoever she was, I haven't seen her since.

The door to Jonathan's office was swung wide open. Inside, towers of aging books had been erected on his desk, on the floor, and towards the hallway where I stood. Nearly all of the texts were stuffed with sheets of loose-leaf. Jonathan was reading from his computer, and did not hear me as I hovered about the mantle.

"Prof-Jonathan?" I said after it was clear he wasn't going to look in my direction unless prompted.

His head swung back towards me. "Mitsuko? Hi! Was there something you needed?"

I glanced down at my hands. I had been fidgeting in my nervousness. I laced my fingers together and let my hands drop in front of my skirt. "Ah, actually I-"

"Would you wait just a sec? I'm going to open the window in here; I need some fresh air circulating. Do you mind if it gets cold?"

"No," I fibbed.

His back turned to open the window, It occurred to me just how falsely penetrating his gaze was. I was convinced in that moment that he saw me only for who he wanted me to be.

"There!" he exclaimed. "Now, I'm sorry, what were you saying?"

"I was wondering how I would go about withdrawing from my classes this semester," I blurted.

"Well..." He took his reading glasses off and rubbed his eye sockets with his thumb and forefinger. "You can imagine, there are many students taking that course of action this semester. I'd ask you to come in, but..." He waved his hand feebly at his mountains of clutter.

"The university has decided upon a policy of forgiveness this semester, if the reason for withdrawing involves the events of the past week," he continued. "I assume that's your reason for leaving?"

"There's a loved one I have reason to believe is still alive, ...but there's no way for me to contact him."

Why tell him anything? a dark voice within me demanded.

"Here." He rummaged through the disarray on his take and effortlessly produced a stapled document. "You need to take that to The Bursar's Office and get it signed. Then, come back here, and I'll sign it. The last person who'll give it approval, if you look on the last page, is the department head."

"Thank you," I told him hastily, and quickly turned to leave.

"Wait a minute, Mitsuko!" he called before I could escape the sophomoric distaste I was feeling towards him. He pulled out a pen and began to scrawl in heavy print on a Post-It Note. "That's my e-mail address and home phone number." He stuck it on top of the documents. Looking away, and pretended to make busy with a pile meant for the waste paper basket. "If you need anything and can't reach me here, try those."

I took a step away.

"So...don't be a stranger, okay?" His voice wobbled.

I couldn't talk. I turned and strode away, nearly running as I reached the door, my throat squeezed from equal proportions of fear and repugnance.

Outside, after catching my breath, I steadied my hands well enough to dial from my cell phone. Mr. Hattori answered, "Komyouji residence, Hanpei Hattori speaking."

"Hi."

"Mitsuko?"

"Yes. It's me."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I mean-nothing I can't get over."

"What's up?"

"I've finished." I took a breath, and surveyed the campus one more time. "It's done."